"But how?"
"I shall have a wire running along the coping, as I have already said, that between the hours of eight and twelve p.m. will be so full of shocking things that my uninvited guests will cease to bother me. Can you imagine the effect of a live wire upon ten loving couples engaged in looking at the moon while sitting on it?"
"Yet you claim to insist upon their rights as lovers," said the Poet, deprecatingly.
"Certainly I do," said the Idiot. "Man has a right to make love wherever he can. If he can't make love on my wall, let him make love somewhere else."
"But where?" cried the Poet. "Your swains up here have no home, apparently."
"Or Jimpsonberry's wall," said the Idiot. "By the way, do you know anything about moths?"
[XIV]
SOME CONSIDERATION OF THE MOTH
"Do you know anything about the habits of moths?" repeated the Idiot.
"Moths?" echoed the Poet, eying the Idiot closely, the transition from live wires to moths proving rather too sudden for his comprehension. "No, I don't know anything about moths except that I have heard that they are an unmitigated nuisance."